what she lost to the flare: book one
by Calla Mae
Summary: She woke with no memory to a group of boys and an inescapable maze. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling this is what she wanted. After Thomas triggers The End will she find out who she was before? Or will she learn everything she'd thought about herself was a lie? - OC
1. Chapter 1

**-before-**

The cold floor trembled beneath her, jostling her from a dreamless sleep. Awareness, she found, was a pale blue light showing the hundreds of feet below. Swaying and shaking, metal screeching in her ear, she realized she was still climbing. Fast.  
With a heavy head she rolled onto her back staring through the grates to see the ceiling she was racing for. Closer it came and the breath stilled in her chest at realizing she wasn't slowing. She was on her feet looking right and left, up and down, shoving aside barrels and backpacks, thin unfamiliar hands ran along every corner looking for a lever. There had to be one. There had to be something to slow it down. There wasn't. Nothing but supplies and herself, and she suddenly realized she didn't know who she was. And she wondered, as the box lurched and her shoulder hit the wall behind her, if you could be a stranger to yourself.

Does it matter, she asked herself. The answer was easy _:_ not right now. So shut up and think. A whisper of rushing air and gears grinding drowned every thought, sparked panic in her chest so she couldn't breathe _._ Seeing the red-lighted ceiling rushing closer was too big a thought, and it gripped her heart and squeezed. Thinking wasn't working – stop thinking and listen. Releasing a short, shallow, breath she closed her eyes holding onto the wooden box beside her. Any second now she'd reach the top – was she gonna fly out of it, would she be crushed? Listen!

There was a click somewhere to her right and she felt the wind pulling at her hair and her clothes lessen just a little. With a thud the gears quieted, the chains pulling her rattled, the floor beneath her lurched and suddenly it was still. The color changed from red to green with a sudden blaring that made her flinch. Green, that was a good color. Maybe? She couldn't remember.  
And then it was gone, replaced by a black thick enough she couldn't see and somehow that was worse. For a moment the dark space was filled with nothing but the sound of her own panting. And she thought, I could go mad in here.

A loud snap echoed around her and she curled in on herself, wondering if she'd now plummet, there was a hissing of metal as the ceiling above her retracted. Raising a hand to shield her stinging eyes she squinted at the sudden piercing glare, trying to see past it for a shadow or a shape of something more than just white. But she couldn't see, she could barely keep her eyes open.

There was murmuring somewhere above her, a faint rumbling of deep sounds she couldn't make out. The metal box she was in shook, two distinct clanks – footsteps. People. More strangers.

"How's the greenie looking, like he klunked his pants?"

"Is he big, can he help build?"

"What'd they bring up with him, any food?"

"Hope you enjoyed the one way trip, Greenie."

Her vision cleared with each blink and she watched a large figure step down and pull at the grate above her. With a creak it opened. He landed with heavy feet making the whole box sway, unable to see past the small hand what the new greenie looked like. He himself had a grim face and unyielding blue eyes. She drew her legs closer when he stepped forward, and he stopped recognizing she was now crouched low prepared to fight. And he looked, hard, at the hand still held shielding her face – there was a word for it, for those thin nimble fingers. Delicate. And then he noticed the hair hanging down her back, and it was very much a her.

"Shuck it," he muttered to himself stepping back. He looked at the guys above him, all waiting for him to throw the Greenie out and see what he did. "The Greenie's a girl." He looked back to her seeing with his back turned she'd risen to her feet, her hands now at her side, her face both sharp and soft, her body tense, and her eyes. Her eyes were hard, guarded. She was ready to fight.

* * *

 **-after-**

"Come on, door'll be closing soon."

"I'll come in a minute," she answered without looking to the boy several feet from her back. Craning her neck she strained to see the top of the wall, at the deadest end in the maze. These walls towered high above the rest, they were a perimeter outlining the end of the maze. Beyond them was freedom, but they couldn't find it. They were missing something.

Impatient feet scuffed on stone, brown hands held on cocked hips. She was never ready. "Don't expect me to come back for you," he warned. If she got locked out, and he was sure eventually she'd push her luck, she'd be on her own.

She heard him turn and start running back, already feeling a tremor under her feet. But they'd missed something. A door, an overlooked crack in a wall, a hidden section. Something. If they were gonna find it, and on days like this she found herself doubting they ever would, it wasn't gonna be that very moment. So she sighed, her shoulders dropping along with her heavy heart, and turned for the Glade.

Clink. Scrape. A heavy breath. Clink. Clink.

The breath caught in her throat and she turned to the passage at her left growing dim as the sun started sinking below the walls behind it. There was a shadow in the distance, moving, creeping closer. It was a trick, her eyes were tired. Nothing more.

There was a terrible mechanical growl, her blood turned to ice and she shivered. Time to go. On her next breath she whirled and lunged for the path she and Minho had come, hearing a great commotion at her back. She didn't turn.

Right. Left. Straight. Right. Right. Left. Something large struck the wall, she heard chunks of it patter on the ground. Almost there, she told herself, next time I'll listen to him. Straight. Left. Round the corner. She could see the Glade now, the ground beneath her quivered more as walls began to move. Her pace slowed, no longer hearing anything behind her – it was so quiet she could almost pretend nothing was there at all.

She left the maze at a leisurely jog and slowed at the group of boys surrounding the entrance. Had they heard it too?

"You're cutting it too close," Alby told her as she came to a stop beside him and Newt.

Breathless she could only nod her agreement as she turned back to the Maze, looking now at the passageway she'd come back from. It'd been a trick, a cruel imagination. A shadow moved, drew deeper in the almost-mist until she couldn't see it. It had to have been trick.

"You alright?" came a smooth accented voice, mumbled close to her ear.

Stubbornness kept her from turning to him, and it had her leaning away so that he stepped back disappointed. A groan sounded from deep in the maze followed by a heavy rush of air – it'd taken her days of hearing it before she came up with the word moan. It was the sound of a ghost. The doors slowly began to draw together, the gears clinking as they wound in place. She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding glad, for once, to be shut in.

"Welcome to the Glade."

At Alby's words she realized what day it was, giving reason to why she'd woken in such a foul mood. It also explained why so many gladers were at the doors, the Greenie was curious. Not wanting to be bothered with questions she didn't have answers to, most notably being why she was the only girl, she turned planning to meet Minho in the map room.

Unsynchronized footsteps whispered through the grass behind her, she neither slowed nor gave any other indication she knew they were there. Maybe he'd give up, see she didn't want to talk.  
But he never gave up, at least not on her. A breath left her at the feel of his hand on her arm, holding her enough she knew he wanted her to stop but not tight enough she couldn't shrug him off if she wanted. "I need to go over the map with Minho," she told him without turning.

"I know," was his quiet reply. Slowly he ran his hand down the length of her arm, feeling her warm skin as he encircled her wrist. He stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his chest. It wasn't until he trailed his fingertips along the back of her hand that she finally turned to look at him. Her face was still hard but her eyes were soft – soft in a way she only was with him. "Something happened," he said not needing to ask. He knew her, so well that he could see remnants of fear hidden deep in her stare. He leaned closer bowing his head, the tip of his nose grazing her cheek.

She felt herself giving in, felt her body leaning into his. She took a steadying breath. "Before I forget." And she pulled away.

His hand rose as though to follow, still holding hers, and it dropped to his side. Empty. "Yeah," he sighed watching her go.

* * *

 _This is an idea I had for both movies, so far. This character is actually a combination of ideas I've had for this series. I've structured it with before and after because I wanted to try something new, I wanted to show who she was when she got there in direct contrast to who she has grown to be when Thomas arrives. Please let me know if it doesn't work and I won't do it again.  
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**-before-**

This was the Glade. It'd seemed huge at first but after walking it with Alby she didn't think it was that big anymore. There was the Tree Grove, a rickety fence holding animals that didn't have a name yet, the Gardens or at least the start of a garden, and what they called the Homestead which was a cluster of little buildings half made and mostly falling apart. Three rules: do your part, never harm another glader, and never go outside the walls. Alby didn't tell her what was out there and she didn't ask.

Every so often Alby would slip in an unfamiliar shank or shuck. She heard Greenie the most, along with Newbie – she'd come to realize they both meant her. She was told six names for six boys and each had a word for something, they all pointed and they all stared, their whispers were loud and overheard. None of them were nice.

"How's it going?"

Alby turned to the boy jogging toward them, his blonde hair flopping over his forehead with each step. "Just the shank I wanted to see," Alby proclaimed nudging the girl. She was staring at the door, the one she was informed to never use. She only turned long enough to see there was another person before she was observing again, quietly taking it all in.

"She bug out yet?" Newt asked craning to see around Alby's broad shoulders.

Alby looked at her over his shoulder, she was still just staring. It wasn't a blank stare, she wasn't demanding, she didn't fight or run, she just took it. "She's quiet," he answered turning back to Newt's more easily readable face. "I'll talk to the other shanks, make sure no one touches her. You can finish her tour."

Newt nodded. "Got a name yet?" he asked, not sure if he meant her name or just something to call her. Greenie didn't suit her, then again her being there didn't feel right either.

"No. But see if you can get her to ask something, I can't get more than a yes or no." Before Newt could respond Alby moved to where she was and stepped in front of her forcing her to look at him. He thought she might've been his age, a bit on the shorter end, she was lithe but there was something – maybe in her eyes – that made him think she could fight. Gally certainly thought so. "Newt's gonna show you around a bit. Hey," he said at her turning back to the Glade, "no one's gonna hurt you. You have my word." He waited as she faced him again, her eyes flashing with irritation – that was never a concern. Not only did they get a girl, they'd got themselves a fighter. "Good that," he told her quietly, staring at her moments longer before turning and making for where the other gladers were.

Newt stood at her back waiting for her to acknowledge him, seeing her watching Alby walk away. She didn't turn to him so he stepped closer, in doing so he heard the air passing through her lips as she quietly gasped. "You alright?" he asked lamely, knowing she wasn't. She didn't answer. Instead she walked away, and he hurried after because she was rushing and he wasn't sure where she was going.

She heard him calling for her, to get her to stop, to slim it whatever that meant. But she hurried forward, steadying herself on the trunk of a tree. They'd filled her so full of names and things that didn't make sense there was nothing else she could do but hurl. With a hand on the tree and the other on her knee she breathed deeply calming herself, making sure she wouldn't puke again. When she was sure, and calm, she straightened and wiped her mouth. "Don't tell anyone," she ordered in a voice as unfamiliar to her as everything else, pushing past the boy with the accent, "ever."

Newt looked after her realizing she was scared the same way he'd been, the same way they all were. She was just too stubborn to show it. "You know," he called to her as she walked away from him again, this time slower, "it might help if you ask something."

Rolling her eyes she half turned in his direction, her gaze sticking once more on the doors. "What's it gonna help?" she demanded. No amount of questioning was gonna make this any different, they both knew it.

"Shuck if I know," he shrugged ambling his way to her again.

She looked at him this time, liking his answer. He had a kind face, warm dark eyes, a wide nose, small features the combination of which made him look young. It was a good face. "Lea," she breathed, staring at him with eyes so wide she almost looked vulnerable.

"Come again?"

She blinked. It felt right enough. "I think that's me."

His brows twitched as though to rise and he nodded. "Well alright then," he said holding out his hand in offering. "It's nice to meet you Lea." At her hesitation he gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile, that grew when she placed her hand in his. "Now, I'm generous so I'll allow you one question."

It took her a moment to hear the joke in his words and she dropped his hand rolling her eyes. But he didn't miss the way the right corner of her mouth curled. She turned back to the Glade looking everything over, eyes falling to the doors once more.

For several long seconds they stood in silence as she thought. He expected what he'd asked: where are we, how do we leave, why can't I remember anything, who put us here? Then she turned to him, and he found that despite her sun-browned skin her eyes were a mix between blue and green.

"Do they keep something out or keep us in?"

This time his brows rose, she really had taken in everything. It left him now having to answer, he didn't have much of one, no one did. "A little of both, I guess." It wasn't much of anything, besides vague, and he waited for her to demand more. But she only turned back to the doors and stared. And he found himself wondering if all girls were like this.

 **-after-**

She followed the unmarked path through the woods, twigs snapping under boot leaves rustling. Reaching the map room she pushed the door open letting it swing shut behind her.

"Which section do you wanna search tomorrow?" Minho asked hunched over the map. Without waiting for an answer he pointed to a small corner of the part of the maze that would open tomorrow. "I think you and Ben should look here, see if your theory's right in it being underground."

Stepping closer she stood brushing against his leg. "It's not a theory, just grasping at straws," she answered thinking his corner was good as any.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed rising to his full height, a head above hers. Glancing out of the corner of his eye he noted the way her arms were crossed defensively, her brows drawn together as she looked at the section they were in today. "You find something after I left?" he asked, because she'd been fine before then.

Looking around she picked up a small twig, ones they used as markers, and she stuck it between two walls. They'd traveled the Maze for so long even on the map he knew it to be the passageway she'd been beside when he left her. Without a word she charged out of the map room, he looked at the placement of the stick thinking of what was down that way – more of the same nothing – before following her. He found her a little ways from the hut on her knees drawing in the dirt.

She drew first a circle then two hooked lines on either side, and behind the circle she drew a tail. When finished she sat back thinking it was a joke compared what she'd been able to make out, a little stick drawing of a much scarier thing. But Minho knew and he sank to his knees beside her trying to imagine the drawing on a larger, more frightening, scale. "You saw one?" he asked not believing it. They didn't come out during the day. He wondered how close it got, how close they'd come to losing her.

"It chased me back," she answered softly, remembering the thud of its body against the wall. At his continued silence she turned to him, seeing him staring unhappily at the drawing. "Maybe next time I'll listen when you tell me to come back."

He looked up releasing a breath of a laugh. "Yeah that'll be the shucking day." Standing he offered his hand to pull her up, which she slapped away as she climbed to her feet.

…

She sat on an overturned box for much of the celebration. She'd been around for enough of these that nothing was new, the Greenie was always the same they'd fall in line and coexist like everyone else. She had more interest in the cup Gally had given her and the plate Minho had set in her lap. She shoveled food in her mouth, took a drink, swallowed. And did it again. It was always the same. Nothing ever changed.

Leaning against Ben behind her she half turned to Minho. "Think anyone'll beat him?" she asked looking at where Gally easily shoved a shank out of the circle.

Minho shrugged taking her cup. "Not since you," he answered taking a large gulp.

But she saw the smile he was hiding, felt her own threatening to show as she scooped a forkful of food into her mouth. The fork wasn't much use for the half liquid and she somehow ended up with it on her hand. Raising a finger to her mouth she looked up feeling a heavy stare and found the Newbie, not noticing beside her Minho's eyes on her hand. She found him, what was name – she didn't remember, ordinary and unknown.

Thomas had paused at the sight of a long ponytail hanging down a slender back. She looked out of place amidst the boys and the shadowed light of the fire. Not because she was the only girl he could remember seeing, but she had a little nose and sharp cheekbones and big eyes. For lack of a better word, pretty - he couldn't remember ever using that word but it seemed right for her. It didn't make sense, she didn't make sense. And he could do nothing more than blink.

"Is there something on my face?" she demanded in a harsh tone carved from granite.

"N-no," Thomas stuttered swallowing as heat rose to his face, hearing laughing from the gladers around them. She didn't look pretty anymore, fire flickered in her hard eyes, she looked dangerous. He flinched at a hand clapping his shoulder.

"Don't take it personal Tommy," Newt said ushering him on, giving her lopsided grin she faintly returned, "she's like that with everyone."

Her head slowly turned following the two, Newt's uneven steps more pronounced next to someone who didn't walk with a limp. Seeing his limp she should've thought back to that day, should've felt the same heavy weight buckling her knees at the thought of having to do this without him. But on that night, looking at Newt, she remembered the Newbie's name was Thomas. On that night, looking at Newt, a piece of the puzzle fell into place – _I wanted this._


	3. Chapter 3

**-before-**

Life in the Glade, Lea found, was simple. The work was only just starting, order had only just been created. They'd taken in her smaller form, narrow shoulders, thin arms, her sweet face. The expression she wore, however, was not so sweet. They started her out small, easy. Simple.  
Her efforts as a cook were as follows: "well, uh, not bad. It's, uh, well it's not good but it's not bad. Good effort." Alby had waited silently as Newt stuttered trying his best not to hurt her feels. As soon as Newt had quieted Alby turned to the girl and told her, "we'll find you something else." Her answer was a curt nod as she followed after the broad-shoulder boy. She was next tried as a medic of sorts – a name hadn't been given to this station, nor had a Glader been sent up who knew what to do with the supplies. This trial ended promptly as she told a Glader who'd cut himself to "suck it the shuck up and get out of my face." She was led to the animal pens where she looked up at Alby gave a short, "no," and walked away, leaving him to follow grumbling about shucking girls. Alby left her in the only place left for a girl – because he hadn't listened when she offered to try building – the Gardens. She was useful in planting and pruning, and watering, and weeding.  
It was a simple life. And simple, Lea found, was something she wasn't good at. It was on her knees in the dirt that she watched boys like Gally – who glared every time he looked at her – gathering wood to build. It was sweaty tiring work, and there was something so familiar about the idea of aching muscles after a long day. Simply put, she wanted more.

"You should be working," Alby said without looking to the girl he knew had stopped beside him. Three days and he still couldn't get her to stay at a job. The word Newt used for her was restless, it was different from the word Alby used – irritating.

Staring down the long passageway she leaned this way and that trying to see down a corridor for something more. "Nothing left to do now but watch them grow," was her toneless answer. "How far do you let him go?" she asked of the Asian boy she'd seen go in earlier.

Alby turned to her then taking note of the unwavering way she stared transfixed, and had been from the moment she'd seen it. "Find anything?" he called startling her. Even the way she flinched was muted.

"Just more walls," the boy in the maze yelled back. "Oh look, another shucking wall."

She nodded while Alby rolled his eyes. "You don't want him going alone," she said finally looking up at him, "but you won't go with him." It wasn't a question, she didn't ask many. Just more pieces she'd gathered trying to make sense of things.

Alby faced the Maze avoiding her searching gaze. Domineering, that word seemed to fit the way she stared, and it left him feeling like he had to answer. Like there was an obligation. "Not til this place is up and running. Too many shanks needing things." That and no one else wanted to go, at least not until they knew what was making those noises at night.

For several minutes she remained quiet as she thought, Alby and the other boy conversing in a series of short loud words so that they knew the other was still there. After a few days of unfamiliar, this felt right. She turned to Alby whole bodily, something that got his attention and had him facing her in return. "Can anyone volunteer?" she asked simply, offering nothing further.

Crossing his arms he looked her over: small didn't mean weak, there was some weight on her, she had strong legs. "It ain't safe," he told her.

"When'd you convince yourself we ever were?"

That gave him pause, because he couldn't remember. Out there in here it was all the same to her. He wondered, as he'd been wondering for three days, why she'd been sent up – from what Newt told him she thought it was a mistake. Staring at her then he finally noticed the way her hands twitched as though to hold, the agitated way her body trembled needing to do. Whoever she'd been it wasn't idle. "Newt told you about the Grievers. Why do you wanna go?"

She stepped closer, the toe of her shoe grazing his, an unreadable look on her face. "First, Newt said no one's seen one. Second, he told me you've been in and know it's a maze. Which means what we hear at night is the walls changing, that's three. Four is the number of times Newt said the Glade's been searched which means the way out's not here. I think you'll agree that five, the maze is a puzzle and we get out when we solve it."

That was the most she'd said since coming out of the Box, but that wasn't what gave him pause. Nor was it how right she was, he and Minho had already discussed the maze being a puzzle. There was something in her face, something more than just frustration at her circumstance – there was a fire burning. "You're bored."

Her sigh shrunk her. "Terribly."

Alby smiled then looking back to the maze. "Alright," he said thinking it might work. He'd stay in the Glade til it was figured out, she and Minho would have each other's backs as they explored. And each day they came back unscathed more gladers would be willing to go with them. It might work. "Time's up!"

Within a minute the two saw Minho round the corner as he jogged back the Glade. "I could'a gone another half hour at least," he said looking first to the girl, wondering why she wasn't somewhere else, before turning to Alby.

Alby clapped him on the shoulder. "You got your first volunteer."

"The Greenie?" Minho demanded. "Not just a Greenie but the She-bean. No way, she'd," he thought of what he remembered about girls, which wasn't much, "break a nail."

"We'll see if you keep up."

Minho whirled finding her unoffended as she quietly stood her ground. The fire that boiled in his blood glared in her eyes, they stared silently with deep breaths, reaching the same thought.

They ran. Their legs and arms pumping, their hearts racing, their lungs not quite keeping up. The gladers looked up as they passed, most cheered on Minho, Newt loudly yelled, "Go Greenie!" and Gally watched with narrowed eyes the way her hair blew behind her unable to shake the familiarity she struck in him.

About three quarters of the way around the Glade's perimeter she lost a few steps, by the time they made it back to the doors she was a good five seconds behind him. They stood together – her bent with her hands on her knees and him with an arm heavy on her back – panting. Catching their breath they looked up to see the other gladers gathering around, smiles on their faces at the show.

Alby stood with his arms crossed, a grin curled on half his mouth. "We've got ourselves a pair of runners," he proclaimed. The boys whooped and hollered, congratulating Minho, telling Lea it'd been a shucking good effort. She shoved Minho away from her and he righted himself seeing from the way her brow was smooth and her mouth was almost smirking she'd done it playfully.  
But raising her arm to push him had her noticing the black bracelet on her wrist she'd come with. Curiously stretching it she realized it wasn't a bracelet at all but rather something to tie her hair back with. She gathered the long hair, wishing it felt like hers, and tied it letting it drape down her back out of her face.

"Think that'll make you go faster?"

She turned to Minho with a wry grin and they moved together, side by side, facing the Glade. The others quieted at the determination set in their face; Newt's own face fell at seeing the two get along, at seeing her getting along with someone else because before then she hadn't been. She'd only seemed to like him.

Someone yelled go and the two were off. Lea knew she wouldn't win, he'd already proved that. She just liked the feel of it, the thrill and pain. Reaching a hand out she grabbed Newt's arm and he stumbled after her laughing, seeing a flash of teeth from her smile. And together they ran.

 **-after-**

She was running blind. Her legs burned as she wove around corners slamming into walls and bouncing off as she continued further. It was too early, the sun wouldn't begin to set for hours more. She and Ben, because that was the day's alternation, hadn't even made it halfway through the section. It shouldn't be out. Why was it out?

Ben was too many steps ahead racing back to the Glade, too afraid to look back and see she wasn't as fast, too afraid to know what she knew – they couldn't lead it back, not with the doors open.

Crack. A large body hit the same wall she had. clinkclinkclinkclinkclink

With her mouth open wide she still couldn't breathe, couldn't even scream. Water filled her eyes so she couldn't see. She hit another wall and kept going, her elbow bleeding. That same thud and metallic scrape as it hit the wall behind her. Closer now.

Her thoughts ran as fast as her legs. She saw Ben's blonde head in front of her. Screaming at herself to focus she recognized this passageway, and she knew what was around this turn. A decision was reached, and she thanked a God she couldn't remember that she hadn't been with Minho today.

This time when she reached the end of the passage she grabbed the vines catching herself and spun quickly around the corner burrowing into the leaves. When the Griever rounded the corner all it saw was Ben.

She was a terrible person. But she already knew that.

There were footsteps to her left down a hall she couldn't see. He slowed at Ben's cry, there was a soft movement of air as he opened his mouth to call out if someone was hurt. A thin hand with long fingers clamped over his mouth shoving his back to the vined wall behind him.

The two stared at one another, his eyes narrow and dark hers round and blue, and a muted relief went through them both at seeing the other was okay.

Clink. Clink.

She held her breath, moved her hand over his nose so that Minho had hold his with her. Her heart beat loud in her ears and she prayed it wasn't that loud outside her body. The Griever slowly moved passed, pausing at the end of passage before scraping right. They held still unbreathing until they couldn't hear it anymore, until their vision blurred and their chests were on fire.

Releasing a breath that trembled more than her spine she wilted against his chest letting her hand fall from his mouth.

"You knew," he breathed knowing she'd let Ben get stung. He felt her shaking against him, felt the pull of her hand clenching his shirt, heard her ragged breathing from where her head laid heavy on his shoulder. "Tell me you didn't know."

Her eyes were shut tight, refusing the tears that filled them. She was a terrible person. Now he knew too.

It surprised him, her hands striking his chest. She hit him with open palms over and over, but never hard. He raised his arms, maybe in defense, maybe to reach for her. She hit those too. Stepping back he saw her eyes were wet and her face guilty. She breathed looking up at him, he was afraid and unhappy – and they both might've been at her.

She took another step back her gaze falling to his shirt ashamed. He quietly stood waiting. Squaring her shoulders she straightened the straps to her pack. "We should see if he's okay," she said quietly.

His head turned watching her go, not understanding the want in his arms to wrap around her. He only understood the churning in his stomach and the disgust he felt. "You know he isn't," he replied. An accusation.

Her steps faltered as though she'd been struck, her eyes closing in dismay. Gritting her teeth she opened her eyes and began to run.


	4. Chapter 4

**-after-**

She entered the Glade at a jog and stopped at the sight of Alby and Newt waiting at the doors. It forced them to come to her, and she watched their faces closely for any sign of hostility so that she could run back into the maze before they'd catch her. It didn't matter what Newt meant to her, it didn't matter that Alby had always been her strongest advocate. She'd been sent here and she'd made the best of it, she didn't choose these boys.

"What happened?" Alby asked standing in front of her. His eyes were searching, his brows furrowed, his mouth frowning – concerned.

A breath passed silently through parted lips and all the strength she'd gathered in order to leave them wilted and withered away. She didn't choose them, but she would. Her eyes fell wondering what they'd do with the truth.

"Don't know," came Minho's steady voice behind her. "We only heard it." He stepped around her meeting her eye with a heavy unbending stare. Or maybe it was a glare, maybe he was seething; sick to his stomach by what she'd do to stay alive. A smaller thought – maybe it made him sick to think what he'd do to keep her alive. She'd made him into a liar. "Where is he?"

Alby sighed staring over Lea's head into the maze as though stalling might make it all go away. "He attacked the Greenie," he answered looking first to Lea's stony face and then to Minho - both refusing to look at the other, feeling the kind of tension from holding two magnets apart that would rather be together. "We called a Gathering, you were the last Keeper."

She watched them go, looking up long enough to see Newt's weighted stare – he knew she wasn't with Minho today. And he too turned and left her still standing by the door. It'd been a while since she felt like she didn't belong, she forgot how lonely that was.  
Turning she looked over her shoulder at the maze, at how easy it'd be to just leave. How long could she run before it caught her – a Griever, the her she couldn't remember. She could've run forever.

 **-before-**

The day dawned like the all the ones before. She was up and showered, standing with wet hair dripping down her back waiting at the doors with Minho. Alby told them eventually more would go with them, two being himself and Newt, it'd make searching go faster. Until then she and Minho were content, happy even. He was the hopeful one searching high and low for a sign – for anything to let them know they were on the right track. And Lea, well Lea was just fine with the running. And memorizing every hall and turn so that they could carve the day's pattern on a sheet of metal they used for paper.

The two were normally in agreement, moving in synch without words or thought. Like they were extensions of each other. But that day they'd reached the end of the hall and where he turned right she turned left.

"Think something's down there?" he asked while jogging in place, not giving his legs a chance to be tired.

She shook her head. "I don't remember there being an opening here." Right went further into the maze where it widened and the walls changed. She could picture the rusted metal carving they'd studied that morning and there hadn't been a left.

Minho shrugged unconcerned, it was only the third time they'd been in this section. "Must've missed it before. We can go if you want."

He was probably right and they'd looked over it. But she turned to him seeing he wasn't bothered either way and she raised a shoulder in question. "You go on ahead, I'll see if this goes anywhere and meet up with you?"

He'd thought about them splitting up to cover more ground a few times, but every morning he'd turn and notice the way the lightening sky made her eyes more green. That was the time he'd give a short, "morning," having forgotten what he was gonna say. But he couldn't see the color of her eyes then. "Don't get lost," he told her half joking.

"Don't miss me," she told him half serious, taking a step backward making him smile. It was a good smile, all teeth and squinted eyes.  
He carried on a ways down the long passageway knowing the halls to the right only led to dead ends. His eyes strained searching his peripheral for her, so used to her running on his left. He didn't need her, he never had, she was just there to make Alby happy. And yet his pace slowed until he was standing at the place the maze widened unable to take another step. In front of him was more inviting, the wideness allowing the sunlight in casting everything in a golden hue, the walls seemed shorter, the maze was different and they hadn't been to this one yet.

He didn't need her, he never had. But he wanted her. Heaving a sigh he turned on his heel and began jogging back, wondering if he snuck up on her whether or not she'd scream. That thought made him grin.

A deafening grinding of stone sounded shaking the ground beneath his feet. He wasn't smiling anymore. A sudden thought struck him in the shape of the maze they'd drawn for this section – there hadn't been a left. He raced around the corner and skid to a halt slamming his palms into the wall that'd shut behind her. "Lea!"

She stared open mouthed at the wall knowing without comprehending that she was trapped. She didn't need to touch it, to hit and punch it like Minho did. She just knew. He called her name again, an urgency in his faraway voice. "I'm here," she called back. He didn't say anything funny, there was nothing funny to say. When she finally remembered to breathe it was in quick shallow pants. Hurry up, she told herself already feeling the ground under her quivering. They're trapping you. She didn't wait long enough to think about who they were.

"Right," she yelled lunging around the corner of the hall that went in the same direction he'd been going before. There was a groan behind her, she didn't look to see if she'd been closed in again. Ahead of her at the end of the hall the only way to go was left. She'd never find him. Oh shut up, she told herself. She knew where they were, they'd reached the place the maze widened which meant the wall to the left was the perimeter. "Left," she called darting around the corner.

Minho followed her direction seeing up ahead was a doorway. He smiled running faster. They'd meet there and he'd laugh at how scared she'd been, how she was such a girl, and she'd joke back saying he'd been the one scared and that he liked her too much. Or maybe she wouldn't say anything, she'd give him a look and shove him fondly. He reached the entry and saw her thin form and her wide eyes.

A wall of stone separated them as the doorway shut with a crack. His smile was gone. Something was happening, and it was happening to her. "Run," he yelled, his voice straining from the way it tore from his throat.  
So much could've gone wrong: there wasn't another passage, on her side of the long wall the maze hooked around forcing her in another direction. He wasn't gonna get her back, she was gonna be gone and he'd have to run through this maze without her. When had "I" turned into "us," when had "his days" turned into "their days?" He had to get her back.

Up ahead he saw another doorway, the ground beneath his feet already rumbling. He'd never run so fast. Lea flew out of the hall colliding with Minho, who caught her with strong arms anchoring her against him as her momentum spun them half around.

She gasped, though it was more the sound of crying, clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. He sank to his knees dragging her with him and they sat for a good long while catching their breath and calming their fears. The sun moved across the sky so that it sat directly over the two as he sat on his knees with her legs spread around him more or less laying over his chest.

Her breathing finally evened as she sniffed away the last of her tears, and with it he stood pulling her up as well. "Come on," he said unwinding his arms from around her back. "We can be done for the day."

"We've still got a few hours," was her reply as she looked to the sky wiping beneath her eyes.

He looked her over from her red-rimmed eyes to her pale face and the same shaky palms as his own. "You wanna hold my hand?" he asked, a sneer loosely laced in his voice.

She cocked a brow. "That's not funny," she said stepping around him, feeling his confused stare following her. Looking at him over her shoulder she continued: "I've wanted to hold your hand since I got here."

Rolling his eyes he moved with her knocking her shoulder with his. "I am pretty great," he said as they walked, turning to meet her wry stare. "You couldn't help falling in love with me." He watched her smile unfold, spread wide rounding her cheeks, crinkling her eyes – she had a sweet laugh. She hadn't laughed since she'd come up, a smile here or there, but nothing like this. And it swelled in his chest making him stand up straighter.

"Guess not," she mumbled walking at his side, feeling his arm brushing against her to assure himself she was still there.

 **-after-**

She turned from the maze and walked further into the Glade, resigning herself to these boys and this place. She knew nothing else. But that wasn't true, she knew quite a few things none of which she'd shared.

With the Keepers gathered in the council hall, and the rest of the shaken gladers huddled close by, Lea headed for the Slammer.

"Who's there?"

His voice was small and it shook as he huddled in the farthest corner from the door. She knelt beside the bars, out of sight, giving a quiet, "it's me."

"Lea," he said, tears thick in his hoarse voice as he threw himself at the bars. "You gotta get me out of here, they're gonna do me like Justin. You gotta let me out. Please. pleasepleaseplease," he begged.  
It was pitiful, and she was cruel to think so. Her soft fingers on the hand he'd curled around the wood quieted him, and he stood trying to see her almost panting – the sound coming deep from his throat almost a growl. "It's what I get for leaving you, huh," he said sounding more like himself. "Lea?" She wasn't answering him, why wasn't she answering him. "Are you mad? Do you hate me?" he was crying again, his hands tightening on the wood as though to crush it.

She didn't have time for this. She moved in front of the cage meeting his poison-darkened stare, seeing the kind of recognition that took the breath out of a person.

He hissed throwing himself against the back of the slammer away from her. "You're with them," he spit, foam bubbling around the corners of his mouth.

"Knock it off," she told him firmly. His mouth snapped shut. Obedient. She watched him closely noticing the way his eyes had darkened further and his muscles had coiled wanting to attack – so why didn't he? "I'm gonna ask you a question, you're only response is gonna be yes or no. Nothing else. Got it?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. Obedient, like Barks.

She took a breath leaning forward seeing him recoil. In a softer, almost fearful, voice she asked: "was I the bad guy?"

 **-before-**

The next Greenie was a boy, like all the ones before Lea. It was normal, expected. Alby and Newt shared a long relieved look before dealing with the Greenbean Gally pulled out of the Box. He was older, wide shouldered, thick armed. Before they'd even gotten his name Gally claimed him as a builder. His name had been Justin.

Lea didn't mind him, she hadn't really paid attention. She stuck mostly to herself. Minho usually lounged somewhere around her, Newt sought her out, Alby checked in with her every so often seeing she was happy seeing none of the boys had tried anything but really to see she hadn't gained any memories explaining why she was there, and Gally mostly just stared a deep searching gaze neither kind nor unkind. Most days she was just there, nothing special.

But she should've paid attention, they all should have. It was early on the third day after he'd come up, it was the time the runners – now Minho, Lea, Newt, and Ben – woke preparing for the long day. The boys were bathed and were now getting their packs ready, Lea's pack was ready and she was now bathing. Any minute she'd come around from behind the Homestead with her wet hair pulled back and her clothes clinging to her still damp body.

Instead they looked up at the sound of a commotion to see her narrow shoulders and smaller build dwarfed by Justin's height and muscle. "Hey," Minho yelled dropping the sandwich and running, Newt close at his back. And then Justin stumbled falling to the side, catching himself with a hand on the grass while the other was still raised to Lea as though to say he meant no harm. His nose bent beneath her fist and he fell back. The toe of her boot struck his jaw and his head twisted to the side, his mouth open as though to cry out but her foot landed a blow to his stomach stealing his breath.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her middle anchoring her arms lifting her from the ground, and still she struggled kicking her feet back digging her heels into the soft skin of his thighs. The wind was knocked out of her as her body hit the ground and before she could catch her breath she was being smothered.

"Get him out of here," Gally cried from on top of her, catching her wrists in one hand and holding her head against the grass with the other.

Minho and Alby drug a half conscious Justin toward the slammer, which was really only four hastily built walls and a door they tied in place. "What the shuck did he do?" Minho demanded looking to Alby, who knelt by the barred door and only shook his head. His hands had been up, she'd been the one attacking.

Newt wondered more or less the same thing as he stared down at where Gally was sprawled over her, seeing the moment she stopped fighting. Hesitantly Gally shifted the hand he had on her head, and when she didn't move he released her completely and restrained her only with the weight of him laid over her back. "You good?" he asked. She nodded. Grabbing the back of her neck he stood hauling her up and marched her around to the back of the Homestead. Her head bounced off the wall from how hard he threw her against it setting a ringing in her ears. He stood less than a step away almost pinning her to the side of the building. "What's the second rule?"

She didn't answer.

"Say it," he ordered between clenched teeth.

She took a breath. "Never hurt another glader."

"Never hurt another _shucking_ glader," he repeated, his voice harsher than hers though just as soft. "What'd he do, he hurt you?" he asked. She said nothing. "Was he gonna hurt you?" Nothing. "He say he'd hurt you?" She blinked, he stepped back seeing the answer in her cold stare. "I oughta throw you to the Grievers myself."

"That's enough Gally."

Gally turned to where Newt stood a few steps behind him, her shirt in his hands. Looking back to her Gally realized he hadn't even noticed what she wore only covered her chest. He was struck by the same familiarity he'd felt since that first day when he was sure she'd fight him in the Box – he knew her. He took another step back, seeing all the fight had gone out of her. She was lucky he still had some fight left in him.

Newt moved aside as Gally stalked past. He wasn't sure what to do or where to look, so he simply stepped closer and held out her shirt feeling her snatch it from him. For a couple of long minutes he stood staring at the wall hearing her moving behind him. Until he chanced a look in her direction seeing she'd sat with her back to the Homestead hugging her legs to her chest. He sat beside her wondering how the day had turned to such klunk. They heard the muffled sounds of the others having been woken and now wondering what'd happened, or what was going to happen, and who's fault was it.

He felt, shyly, her head light and unsure on his shoulder. Looking at her he saw her knuckles bloody and bruised, her hands wrapped tight around her legs as though they might protect her. She looked, for the first time, weak. He rested his cheek on the crown of her head. "It's alright," he whispered without knowing if it was. But he wanted it to be. And feeling her pressed against him, he'd find a way to make it okay. Which is exactly what she'd wanted.

Hours later, after Newt left her, it was decided and Justin was forced into the maze as the doors closed.

 **-after-**

With the closing of the doors Ben's pleas were silenced, as if he'd never been there. They'd killed him. Thomas turned away from the doors not knowing if what he felt was sorrow or shame at having been the cause. He found himself staring at a surprisingly bright pair of green eyes set against sun-kissed skin.

"I'll ask you again," she spoke quietly, "is there something on my face?"

"No," he answered, this time not stuttering. He realized hers wasn't the face of someone who just watched a person she'd lived with for three years be sentenced to death. She was cold, unforgiving. "It must be nice." Her head cocked to the side curiously and Thomas realized he'd said it out loud. "I, um, I didn't mean. Not what happened to Ben. That's not, um." He sounded like an idiot. It'd help if she'd stop looking at him. "I meant you just, uh, you're always so-"

"Unfeeling?" She watched the breath go out of him as he nodded and she looked to Minho, who stood with his head bowed eyes closed, and all the other boys around him just as somber. "Ask any of them they'll tell you I'm a machine, I don't feel anything." She looked back to Thomas to see that's what he meant, it must be nice to not feel. "But I feel every shucking thing."

He blinked, his face one of surprise. She reached a hand to pat his arm, unsure how to go about comforting someone, before she turned and made for the Homestead. He stared after her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. They'd had that conversation before. Her face struck no memory in him, but he knew those words. She'd told him that before.

Lea rushed to the Homestead unable to catch her breath. Skating around the side of the building she shut herself inside of the council room, where she went when she needed someplace quiet to think where no one would find her.

At least no one else – because not every glader thought she was a machine, and he was the only one who knew she came here. Newt opened the door to the dim room and found her pacing. She paced in a slow circle when she thought – in that moment she was stalking back and forth over and over. He met her in the middle, and the moment his soft accented voice curled around her name she turned throwing her arms around his shoulders.

He stumbled slightly at the sudden weight of her against him, and he stood for a moment with his hands raised wondering what happened in the maze. She'd been running with Ben today, which meant she knew what happened. And then he felt the warmth of her tears against his cheek and his arms wrapped firmly around her. "It's okay," he told her even though it wasn't. "We're all bloody okay."

He thought it was guilt, knowing she couldn't outrun Ben. But she was more selfish than he gave credit. What had she done, who was she – these were the thoughts that troubled her, these were her fears.

Her breathing was short, not deep enough to calm the heart that beat loudly in her ears. Her mind was too loud. She leaned back looking at Newt's sweet worried face, always so caring – he'd always liked her. Too much.

Moving a hand around the back of his head she pulled him to her kissing him open mouthed. It didn't take him long to get over the initial shock, and he'd thought about this long enough he easily matched her starved heat.

She wanted to see what he saw when he looked at her, she wanted to feel what he felt. She was a terrible person. And she wondered, as she pushed past his lips with her tongue, if he could taste it. She had his knees buckling and he fell onto a bench pulling her with him so that she sat with a knee on either side of him, her fingers fisting his hair holding his mouth to hers so he couldn't breathe. He'd drown before she let him go.

She was a terrible person. But she already knew that.


	5. Chapter 5

**-before-**

"What'd you tell Alby?" Lea demanded when she found Gally, ax in hand, cutting a tree for wood.

Sweat pooling on his brow he turned seeing her angry face and he laughed a bitter unamused laugh. "Thank you for saving my shucking ass, Gally," he slammed the blade of the ax into the small indent he'd created, "really appreciate it." Chop. "Don't mention it, Lea." Chop. Chop. "Really, don't mention it." He swung the ax violently and the leaves on its branches shook but didn't fall. He wiped his forehead looking to her, seeing her still angry face. There was a stillness about her, unwavering, she wouldn't move til she got what she wanted. He flung the ax to the ground where its blade stuck in the dirt and he stalked toward her stopping so that she had to look up to see his eyes. "You're getting on my last nerve, shank. You come here act like you own the place and we're supposed to follow your every command. And now you're mad cause I fixed your mess."

She breathed evenly, slow and steady, blinking unoffended. "I didn't ask you to," she said seeing that cruel smile of his again, the one that meant he didn't really find it funny. "He didn't hurt me."

"No, he recognized you," he said noticing the way her face froze. That's how he knew he'd been right. "Wanna know how I know? Because _I_ recognize you." He let the weight of those words settle on her surprisingly small shoulders, long enough she looked away. "Maybe you do own the place," he said with an offhanded shrug.

Her eyes were sharp when she looked back up at him. "Is this the part where you follow my every command?" This time only half his mouth pulled into a smile, more genuine. He was young but he was big, there was a knot on her head from where it'd hit the Homestead after he shoved her. "I can save myself," she told him, her voice not offering a refusal. Stomaching as much of him as she could she turned and walked away, prepared to find Minho so they could talk about where they wanted to search in tomorrow's maze. Her arm wrenched back and she turned hitting a chest much stronger than it looked.

His head was ducked so that his forehead almost brushed hers, his eyes hovering right above hers. "Never hurt another glader," he said tightening his hand around her arm. He wondered if he could break it. "It was you or him. I made a choice."

He left her to stare after him, raising a hand to her now aching arm knowing it'd bruise. He left her wondering why he'd chosen her. He left her to live with it.

 **-after-**

It was late when the day caught up to her, when the choices she'd made finally found her. It came in the form of Alby rounding the corner of the Homestead to find her and Newt leaving the council room – her hair now down and her wrinkled clothes slightly askew, next to Newt's reddened mouth and his shirt inside out.

Alby's face remained solemn but he held his tongue, his arms crossed as he leaned against the sidewall of the Homestead. Newt took his leave, already knowing what she'd done, casting the two a quick look to see they both hadn't moved before he continued on.

They were quiet as the last bit of sun drained away casting them in a sudden near darkness it took their eyes minutes to sort through to finally see the light. He watched her, head tilted back as she stared at the stars. She'd worn down any kind thought he'd once had of her, she was selfish and entitled, more than that she was unbendingly rigid. And she stood there with her arms wrapped around herself wondering if the sound in her ears were the stars scraping the sky, or just her lonely heartbeat.

"He told you then," she stated simply, her voice soft and surprisingly pleasant. More pleasant than she'd ever been.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged, wishing for the warmth she'd found in the council room. Wishing for Newt's arms because that was the only place she'd ever felt like she knew herself. "You aren't my Keeper," she answered even softer.

"How bout your friend?"

Her chin lowered as she turned to him, unable to see more than the shape of him in the shadows. "Were we ever that?"

The corner of his mouth curled ruefully before returning to a grim line as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. "Consider yourself suspended," he told her and she looked to the stars once more, as if they knew the secrets she didn't. "Gally's expecting you first thing."

She nodded as if it that meant anything to her, as if anything meant more than the answer to the question she asked. "How long?"

He hesitated, seeing more care and fragility in her than he'd ever seen her show anyone else. "Not my decision."

No, it was Minho's. He was the one who didn't want her anymore. The weight of that settled over her and her head dropped so that her eyes were on the ground. He'd get over it, she knew – he didn't need her, but he wanted her. And she'd never done anything but want him too. "Alright," she agreed, the conversation now ended.  
Only when she stepped past him his hand shot out latching to her arm: it wasn't rough or cruel, but firm. Turning to him she watched the flames from the torches flicker in his darkened eyes making them look black. All at once she knew he hated her. That he may have always hated her. What she'd done to Justin and now Ben, and all the things she couldn't remember. But what he said was, "d'you know what you're doing?"

Tomorrow? No, with Newt. Maybe that's why he hated her. And because she might've hated her too she gave him the truth, "ruining him."

It was his turn to ask, "for how long?"

"Oh you know me," she said, her tone light and her shrug offhanded, as if the worst parts of her were humorous, "as long as I need him."

It wasn't the underlining self hatred he heard thick in her voice, or that she knew what kind of person she was – it was the glistening of her eyes in the moonlight, the crease in her brow. She hadn't meant for this. His hand dropped from her arm and he watched her turn back for the council room and shut herself inside.

She sat with her knees curled to her chest in a complete darkness filled only with the sound of her. There was no one to hate her, or love her, no one expecting her to feel the same way they did – alone she could be selfish and angry, and afraid and maybe it was all at herself. In that moment, void of any light, she could imagine she wasn't real. This pain, wasn't real. She had no past, the Box was her birth, the Glade her home, these boys her family, and her able to love.

But a pale light broke the darkness as a new day dawned. And she resigned herself to reality. The one where her past hid behind a pair of pale unforgiving eyes, and no matter how tight Newt's arms wrapped around her she couldn't hide from it.

She came around the side of the Homestead in time for the grinding of the doors and the two boys who stood ready to run the maze. As if in knowing Minho turned finding where she stood, her long hair blowing slightly on the early morning breeze. And then he was gone, and she looked away.

"Hey," Gally said not turning when she stopped beside him. She was the last one, not that he was surprised she only ever came early for Minho.

She waited as he barked an order, and then waited some more before he finally turned to her. "What am I doing?"

"Fixing a leak in the Homestead," he answered flicking a hand in a gesture that meant come on. They were quiet as they walked, as he led her to the part of the roof that was leaking from rotted wood. "We couldn't get anyone high enough without them falling, busting their shuck head. You're small enough, you can stand on my shoulders."

"And bust my shuck head?"

Cocking a brow he looked at her. "Can't say you don't deserve it."

Looking up she could see a bright slit of sky where a large chunk of wood had fallen. "Probably."

Other than an occasional order from Gally, or question from Lea on what to do, they worked in relative silence. They found that with his hands securing her ankles to his shoulders she was able to reach the top of the Homestead. Within an hour he was holding the thick of her leg as she carefully climbed down him.

With both feet on the ground she looked up at him watching him stretch his aching shoulders. "What now?" There was half a day left.

He shrugged. "You're done for the day." He saw that disappointed her, or maybe irritated her – he didn't know her well enough to know how to read her. "See if your boyfriend needs help." And with a sneer he wasn't sure he fully meant, he added, "the one here at least."

Her eyes didn't follow as he turned for the door, and she wasn't listening enough to have taken offense. Even if she had been listening she wouldn't have, because he wasn't wrong. But her mind had stuck on his face and the memory that went with it. "You said you recognized me," she said stilling his feet as he turned back to her. Three years and neither one of them brought that day up, but Minho was being stubborn and Newt thought too much of her – in the end it could only be Gally, the boy who'd always known her. "I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

"The lack of girls give that away?" he asked opting for sarcasm in his confusion. He waited for her to say more, to react in any way other than to stare at him waiting for him to get it. And then he did. "Shuck," it took the breath out of him. "Ben recognized you. He said something didn't he?" Gally had unconsciously stepped closer, either drawn to the possibility of answers or to protect her as he'd always felt the need to.

"He said I was with them."

WCKD. Gally knew who they were. A heavy accusation, one he'd considered a good long while after she'd shown up until a switch had gone off in his brain when he saw her attacking Justin. Suspicion turned to defense, and it never turned back. "What do you know so far?" he asked, realizing she'd been keeping secrets.

This was it, the sum of all her parts. "I know two years ago Minho and I split up and the walls closed around me. I know when that didn't work the next Greenie they sent up recognized me. And I know that the Griever was after me because one chased me back to the Glade two days ago." She'd never said it all aloud, as if the stars might overhear and whisper it in someone's ear. It didn't add up to much, but it was the biggest picture she had of herself. But in that moment, hearing it all, she was realizing it didn't add up to her working for them – they'd been trying to get rid of her from the beginning.  
She looked at Gally's furrowed brows and heavy frown, not liking any of what she'd said. She'd never liked him, he'd never liked her, yet she stood there giving him all the pieces of herself as though at one point they might have. That thought made her honest. "You think I'm on your side?"

"You don't?" he asked but it wasn't a question. He could see it clearly in her unhappy face – not sad or vulnerable, but unhappy in the way that made her look like she wanted to hit someone.

She raised an uncertain shoulder and softly answered, "I don't know."

 **-before-**

Minho and Lea trained Newt and Ben, and all the runners that followed. No one knew the maze better than the two of them, other than the creators. They'd run into the maze together as a group, and then one turn and they broke apart.

On the days she ran with Newt he'd try striking up a conversation – he quickly found there wasn't much to talk about, she didn't know many of the things he did. Most days they ran together he talked, explaining things like zoos and bicycles because whoever she'd been she hadn't seen much of outside. On a good day he could get her to tell him what she did know: order, fighting, and spoken in such a soft voice he'd misheard her the first time – weapons. The last one scared him. And then he'd glanced at her seeing her wide eyes and frowning mouth, he knew it scared her too. That'd been the first day he tried holding her hand. As he found on most days, even the good ones, she wouldn't let him. But she had on that day.

The days turned to months and their steps fell in synch, he and she turned to they, their bodies became reflections. And so when every day Newt woke was a bad day, she noticed. No matter how many times he said, "I'm fine, I'm just tired," or he tucked it away behind a smile, she noticed. So he stopped running with her.

And so on that day, which was the worst day, when she and Minho were running back to the Glade – she noticed. They rounded a corner and she came to a sudden stop a few feet away from a wall with high reaching vines, and beneath it a thick smear of blood. And she knew. She'd never run so fast.

 **-after-**

They were running out of time. She stood at the door with everyone else waiting just as impatiently for Minho and Alby to come back. She'd been placed behind Gally, the only one strong enough to hold her if she tried to run – Lea was lucky Newt hadn't put her in the slammer because she was the only one reckless enough to try it.

Come back, she said to herself. Or maybe prayed. Come back.

"Come on guys, can't we send someone after them?" Thomas asked as a rumbling set in the maze.

Newt's gaze moved to Lea seeing the rise and fall of her chest was too fast, the muscles in her jaw too tight. "It's against the rules," Gally said kneeling in front of her, feeling the way she shifted her weight against his back. "Either they make it back or they don't."

"We can't risk losing anyone else," Newt further explained for Thomas, as if his two best mates weren't in there. As if he himself didn't want to go after them.  
There was a deep groan and a heavy rush of air that blew against them pulling at their clothes, pushing them a back a step. Gally stood, ready to grab her as the doors began their slow wind shut.

Come back.

As if he heard her Minho rounded the last corner, and she breathed allowing herself to hope. It was a mistake.  
"Something's wrong," Newt said seeing, like Lea had, the way Minho was having to carry Alby.

Everyone started yelling as the doors drew closer together, for them to come on, to hurry, to leave Alby. They were so close. But they weren't gonna make it. Minho let Alby fall to the ground and grabbed his ankles hauling him toward the door, his eyes finding Lea amidst them all – amidst everything.

Don't leave me.

She lunged. Gally's cruel hand wrapped tight around her arm stopping her suddenly and she her back hit his chest. His grip tightened. From the way she pulled against him he honestly thought she'd rip her arm off to be with him.

But she wasn't the only reckless one. A thought struck her, a knowing – as if she knew him – and she turned to Thomas seeing the way he watched the doors as if calculating how much time was left before they closed. Do it, she didn't know if she said it aloud but he sprung into action none the less. She watched him slip between the doors rushing for the other side, Newt reaching for him too late.

The doors closed behind him with a crack and she stilled, the boys stilled, the rumbling stilled. It was like everything had stopped. She stared at the doors like they might open, Thomas was with him and somehow that was supposed to mean something. But what the shuck did it mean? She wanted to scream, to slam her hands against the stone until they broke so she could feel something other than him being gone.

But she breathed, sucking it all in hiding it in her lungs. She turned pulling herself out of Gally's loosening grasp, shoving her way through the crowd of boys. Hours later, after Newt had gathered the Keepers and then held a Gathering before sending them all to a sleepless bed, he couldn't find her. Of all the times she should've been there, the times he'd been there, she should've been there now. And she wasn't.

She paced in angry strides when she was upset, but Newt stood stock still with a hand running along his mouth, eyes glaring at the nothing in front of him. Everyone had the same question, what happened now. Newt didn't have an answer, and he was tired of being asked the same question he had – what was he supposed to do now?

He took shelter behind the Homestead hiding from everyone's fears so he could deal with his own. He stood without moving, a curled fist pressed to his mouth, glaring at the shadows in front of him. Without any sound to give warning a thin pair of arms wrapped around his waist, her head nestled between his shoulder blades. And it knocked the bloody wind of him. His hand fell from his chin as his arms covered her own, his fingers lacing with hers.

There were too many thoughts in his head: of Alby and Minho and what the Glade would be without them - what he would be without them. And he needed her, so she'd come. There was a need in her that he filled, a selfish emptiness. This was the first time she'd shown she cared about him the way he cared about her; something close to love. It meant something that it was only when she thought she'd lost Minho. He thought he should be sad about it.

His head was too loud. Without warning he turned cupping her face and kissed her. It wasn't sweet or tender in the way he normally kissed her. It was all heat and demanding, needy. With her arms around his back she held him, and when he stepped forward she stepped back letting him lead her to the council room. He reached blindly for the door, finding it, throwing it open and her inside. There was a need in him, so she filled it.


	6. Chapter 6

_This chapter was a little hard for me to write because of how I felt several years ago. So I'll just say this chapter goes into Newt's hopelessness a little more than I'd planned, possible trigger warning I guess (I've never used that term before, don't know if I used it correctly). And I considered shortening it but I couldn't bring myself to delete any part of his feelings because it just seemed too important for the characters - and myself to write it. And Lea being...well her, is callous and of course doesn't get it and that point of view was hard for me too._

 _I'll stop rambling. It's a sad chapter but I felt it was important to their relationship and how close they are._

* * *

 **-before-**

Newt woke shaking, his forehead drenched in sweat matting his hair. The first time he woke up he knew nothing but pain. A pain without end, an extension of himself, one he couldn't soothe or move or even breathe under the weight of, and a scream he couldn't let go of trapped in his chest. The first, the second and third, and maybe even the fourth time consciousness decided to pay him a visit. It didn't visit often, and it didn't stay for long. Even his dreams were laced in it. Fever dreams, from an infection where the bone broke through his skin.

The fifth time he knew he was awake and that the last sleep wasn't the last. Instead he woke to a terrible ache in his leg and his chest. His mind too. He blinked, several wet blinks, before his sluggish brain understood the wooden roof had been replaced by shadowed green eyes and long soft hair tickled his cheek where it hung off her shoulder – her hair was the softest thing he knew.

"Newt?" she asked him softly.

He blinked, tried to mumble a yeah. Tried to be alive.

"Do you wanna die?" she asked him and he blinked again, this time with no words. His mind caught up realizing the weight on his chest was a pillow and her leaning over him was so she could find his eyes. "Is this what you want?" She'd kill him, if he asked. Before an answer could come his eyes closed.

The next time he woke was better if only a little. The pain was constant, and it took every space in his mind not leaving any room for thought. But he could breathe again, he could move.

"Hey man," Jeff said moving to his side when he noticed Newt was awake. "How're you feeling?"

He swallowed what felt like his tongue before croaking, "bloody fantastic." He turned from Jeff's relieved face not wanting to see his smile. Not really wanting to see anything. But on his right he saw her dark head as she sat with her back to the bed, and from the way her head was leaning against the mattress he knew she was asleep. His fingers brushed her hair remembering the soft tickle against his cheek. Maybe it hadn't been a dream.

"We can't get her to leave."

For a length of time his existence was only to stare at the back of her head, her hair soft like cool water against his hand. And the pain, always the pain. But she took up some of the space, demanding to be known the way only she knew how.

"Hey."

Newt didn't turn at Alby's deep, unhappy, voice. He could picture the way Alby stood with his arms crossed, his shoulders impossibly wide, his brow furrowed and his mouth pulled tight in a grimace. Newt didn't know how to face him, if he ever could. His gaze was set on her hair seeing where laying on the mattress had kinked it. "How long've I been out?"

Alby shifted his weight staring at the wall above Newt's head. "Few days," was his short answer.

"What'd you tell 'em?" Newt asked, feeling the moment she woke.

"Griever," he answered glancing at Newt's pale face before looking away. "You wanna tell 'em the truth that's your choice." Shuck if he hadn't thought of doing the same thing – the last time he thought it might've been the day Newt showed up. Alby knew there was nothing to say. "I'll leave you then."

Newt turned then and was met with the face of what he'd done: dark bags from sleepless nights, a stiff neck from days of constant worry, the swelling pain behind red-rimmed eyes. He'd done that, to his best mate. He opened his mouth to say something, thanks for saving my shuck ass, but what came out was, "yeah."

And so Alby left, and Newt turned back to where Lea sat now turned toward him, her chin resting on the bed, his hand brushing her still damp cheek. He'd done that too.

"You never answered my question," she said through dry lips, her voice deepened by sleep.

His head rolled so that his eyes were on the ceiling unable to meet her hard stare. "Thought I was bloody dreaming."

She watched the way his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth, his hand curling into a fist on the sheet catching strands of her hair around his fingers. Not only was he resigned to live but he had to live with this. "Lucky you did it close to when the Box came – you'd be hurting a lot more without the meds."

"I'm lucky?" he sneered with a cruelty unknown to him.

"I didn't say it was your luck."

He turned back to her then seeing her unnaturally softened face, her red eyes. "You'd have really killed me?" he asked wondering what kind of person it took to be able to do that. Wondering if that made her heartless or kind.

She shrugged, her gaze falling to his shoulder. He looked so thin lying on the bed, so frail. How easy it'd be to break him, if he wasn't already broken. "Maybe Minho's right and I do love you," she told him, sympathy absent from her voice. Her heart, she wasn't sure.

He shook his head. "You don't kill the people you love."

"You don't leave them either," she said in a trembling breath.

He couldn't look at her anymore. There was an expression on her face he'd never seen before and he couldn't put his finger on it but it made him burn with shame – she wasn't so much sad as she was lost. That's what the thought of him dead made her, lost. And he couldn't look at her anymore, couldn't face what he'd done.

 **-after-**

Hope is a dangerous thing. It can drive a man insane. Lea thought she might've read that somewhere. People lived their lives one little hope at a time. The hope that the sun would rise tomorrow kept the Gladers going. The hope for escape, as small as it was, is what kept Minho going. Hope for a future with her got Newt walking again. A little hope made things possible.

But a lot of hope… The amount it took to stand at the still closed doors waiting to see Minho and Alby and Thomas – that much hope would break her.

So she stood with Gally and the other builders listening to their assignments, because as Gally told them the Glade would go on. Gally had her with him again planning to continue their conversation, to tell her what he remembered about her and see if they could piece anything together.

The booming rumble of the stone doors slowly dragging apart sounded and still she didn't turn As if she didn't care. And as far as any shank was concerned, herself included, she didn't. Looking down at her heavily creased brows Gally didn't buy it. He turned at the shouting and almost smiled at the sight of Minho and Alby, at seeing they were okay. But his eyes fell to Thomas, recognizing him the way he recognized Lea only without the familiarity. Things started changing the day the Greenie arrived, he knew Lea recognized him too. He'd see the way she unconsciously watched him out of the corner of her eye.

Turning back to her Gally saw her eyes on the dirt still too stubborn to turn around. "Your boyfriend's back," he told her harsher than he'd meant.

She looked up with hard eyes. "I gathered that."

It was a strange feeling to look down on her with such contempt he wanted to bash her pretty face in, but he was held back every time by a care unknown to him. "Strip 'em," he said jabbing a finger at the wood they'd gathered the day before.

She watched Gally walk away, seeing Minho in the distance beyond. He looked up as though feeling her yearning and he almost smiled stepping forward planning to tell her about what the Greenie had done. But his face fell and he faltered, remembering he was supposed to be angry. She watched him turn to the Homestead where the Medjacks took Alby. Leaving her alone, again.

 **-before-**

They sat facing Newt with their backs to the bed next to his slumped together, her head fallen to his shoulder his cheek resting over the top of her head. There was a subtlety in their shared breathing and the way they'd turned into each other. His arm was draped across her chest his hand resting against the floor by her hip, protective. Her curled legs were pressed over his and her arm had fallen limp over his lap, submissive. It was a quiet moment shared between them as they were slow to wake.

Newt turned away from them pressing his face to the pillow. It was easier this way, less painful.

It was warm and comfortable, for the first time since coming to the Glade Lea felt safe. There was a soft smile curling the corners of her mouth as she blinked and it grew at the sight of warm brown eyes staring back at her so close she could feel his breathing.

Minho knew from the way her brows drew together that he wasn't who she wanted, and that settled in the pit of his stomach like soured milk as he sat up and pulled away. He watched as she climbed to her feet, pausing to stretch, and moved around the bed to stand over where Newt lay.  
"Maybe you could run with me today," he said pushing himself up off the bed to stand. "Actually do something, get tired, so last night isn't the only night you got any sleep since he," he'd moved to the door and he raised an arm motioning to the bed Newt occupied.

His eyes were closed, his hands curled around the edges of the pillow holding it tight in his fists. With a sigh she turned and sat at his hip facing Minho with a sullen half-hearted glare.

"You're not coming with me."

He didn't need to ask and she didn't really need to answer but she did anyway with a quiet, "no." So he left and she sat by Newt trying not to hate him. "I know you're awake."

It should've made him feel better at her choosing him over Minho and any other time it would've – but the side of her face was all he could see of her and he knew on sight she wasn't happy. "Have you really not been sleeping?" he asked knowing what kept her up but he was selfish enough to wanna hear her say it.

Sleep was hard when thoughts cycled endlessly in the dark emptiness behind her eyes – the first day she woke knowing he wasn't there was gonna be the hardest, is that gonna be tomorrow, would she be able to do it knowing he was never coming back, how long would it take her to give up?  
She turned to him and opened her mouth prepared to tell him some form of that, but what she ended up saying in a broken sorrowful breath was, "I hate you."

She might as well have hit him from how that stung, and he saw from her wide eyes that it startled her too. He had nothing to say so he said the only thing he could: "okay."

"It's not okay," she told him. "I'm not Alby I don't get it." But she would, because he was the only good dream she ever had and if everyday she woke up with his name in her mouth and the empty space beside her where he used to sleep then she'd find a way to stop waking up. "And I'm a bitch so you can bet your shuck -ass I'm selfish enough to ask you to do it for me." They both almost laughed because she was a bitch and of course she'd be the one to admit it, but her eyes were too wide with pleading and her voice trembled in a way that made her sound weak. "If you still need a reason, do it for me."

Her words were heavy, too heavy for either of them but her thin shoulders were already straining under the weight of almost losing him and she wasn't strong enough. And he wasn't strong enough to keep going. So he pulled her to him, wincing at how the bed jostled his leg, and held her against him until she could be strong again. Strong enough for the both of them.

"You need a bath," she mumbled against his neck.

He probably hadn't had a bath in days, probably pissed himself at some point. With her beside him he thought about being embarrassed but there was a sour smell to her breath that was unpleasant. "You need to brush your teeth."

Her lashes tickled beneath his chin as her eyes opened, he couldn't see the sudden fire that burned. Without a word she sat up leaning over him and smirked at his cute confusion, before she began blowing her bad breath in his face.

And he laughed, big belly-aching laughs that moved his broken leg too much but he didn't stop. Nothing would've made him stop, not even when she did. She settled over him with a hand curled under her chin grinning as his chuckling wound down. It felt so good to laugh and looking up at her he couldn't remember why he thought he'd never laugh again.

She laid her head back on his shoulder seeing the light slowly seeping out of his eyes, happiness was fleeting. "If you go I go," she said feeling the air still in his chest.

He read between her lines and he had a hard time catching his breath. Because maybe Minho was right and she did love him – and she'd never risk loving him if she didn't know with absolute certainty he'd loved her first. "Together or nothing," was his muted reply. It was a promise, and his arms tightened further around her.

 **-after-**

She stayed where Gally left her stretching her aching hand after at least an hour of doing the same motion with the knife over each piece of wood. They were repairing the lookout, some of the boards had come loose and she'd been left with the task of getting them all the same size and removing any knots some clunkhead might trip on.  
That morning when she first woke she'd been so content with an arm slung over Newt's waist using his back as a pillow; she'd been something close to happy. It would've been fine with her if they'd never moved, and from the way he groaned at hearing Chuck outside the council room telling him the doors would open soon Newt would've been fine staying to. But he'd begrudgingly climbed to his feet throwing his clothes on, forcing her to get dressed because he couldn't stand the sight of her laying there beckoning him to lay back down when he knew he couldn't.

She'd almost been in a good mood, but it darkened quickly at realizing Minho was still gone – it darkened further when he came back and still wouldn't talk to her – and now her mood was nearly black as she sat with no one else working while the Keepers held a Gathering.

"You wanna take a break?" one of the Builders asked her, and she didn't care enough to look up to know who.

"You wanna knife in your throat?" she asked resuming her long strokes with the knife over the fifth to the last piece of wood. "You know next time one of you shanks chop wood knowing what size it needs to be why don't you try actually making it that size, save someone having to do this stupid job."

"You know Gally's only making you do it cause he doesn't like you."

She wiped the sweat from her brow glaring at the pile of shavings she'd made. "Yeah I shucking know that," she mumbled mostly to herself. She was sick of this, sick of feeling like she'd done something wrong, and in an indignant huff she threw the knife down and stood stretching her legs, taking the bottle offered to her. She meant to say thank you but it got lost in the water that filled her mouth.

She nearly choked at the sudden trill of the alarm signaling the Box was coming up – three weeks early. The bottle hit the ground on its side and the water inside it began seeping into the ground as she slowly moved with the rushing crowd, the cap still clenched tightly in her fist. A large shadow fell over her and a large hand rested on her back catching himself before he ran into her. She looked up meeting Gally's unhappy eyes and stood behind him as he helped Newt get the Box open.

Lea inexplicably found herself staring down at a sleeping girl with dark hair and pale skin. She was beautiful, Lea blinked trying to understand. Two years and she'd been the only girl and whoever was running this place had been trying to get rid of her ever since. Now there was another girl.

Newt knelt beside her pulling a note from her hand. "She's the last one ever."

Her breathing had quickened as though she'd been racing Minho, her heart hammered furiously in her ears so loud she couldn't think. Lea didn't know this girl, didn't recognize any part of her – but she recognized the feeling of knowing something bad was happening.

She looked up and found Gally already looking at her, who'd seen the worried edge in her stare. He'd recognized her the moment he saw her, it was a vague recognition that only left him knowing that he knew her – but for the first time she looked up at him and knew she'd known him too.


End file.
